Cruel to Be Kind
by Yxonomei
Summary: Anakin will save ObiWan... even if he has to hurt him. SLASH, Darkfic, contains content that might be disturbing to some readers.


**Warnings:** Slash, AU, angst, mild spoilers for RotS, possibly implied non-con, Dark!fic, disturbing scenes and/or content  
**Pairings:** Anakin/Obi-Wan  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Owned by Lucas, et al.

**Summary:** Anakin will save Obi-Wan, even if he has to hurt him..

A/N: Be forewarned—this is a peculiar child of a peculiar brain. Whether the reader may find anything worthy of approbation, the author cannot say—except that she hopes the reader will show enough human respect and dignity to refrain from sacrificing her upon the alter of the reader's indignation. Thank most kindly for your time and for, if you may be so inclined, a memento of your visit. The author is, as always, the humble and pitiable servant of your entertainment.

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:Cruel to Be Kind:

A carmine drop wells up—swelling with hungry life, a heart made liquid—and then it overflows, sliding in a warm, wet rill across the crook of the elbow. Its path curves about the joint until it reaches the underside; then the red bead hangs there for a static moment, trembling with the fine movements of straining muscles, but gravity grasps hold of it and it slips silently to the off-white carpet.

Obi-Wan stares at that brilliant spot staining the carpet, watching the fibers greedily absorb the color. Mesmerized shock fades and a small ache blooms within the punctured flesh of his inner elbow. He raises shocked eyes to the wickedly gleaming implement in his companion's synthleather-clad hand: a museum relic of healing, an artifact from a crude and vulgar history.

Syringe.

"What have you done?" he breathes as a calming numbness spreads up and down from the minute wound—penetration and blood. Peace.

"I'm saving you from yourself, Master," Anakin says, smiling with gentle, humane pity.

Anakin is inside him, spreading through his veins, robbing him of sensation and cares.

Obi-Wan's knees buckle and he slumps to the floor. His heavy head falls upon his breast and his weighted eyelids transmute sight into darkness. Dimly, he notes Anakin's arms encircling him in a possessive embrace, a firm hand guiding his head against the young man's strong chest. Limbs refuse the command to rise and push the other away, and lips and tongue deny the birth of his bewildered outrage.

"Everything will be all right now. I won't allow them to send you off on this suicide mission. You don't belong to them and their draconic ideals. Oh, Master, why couldn't you have just listened to me?"

Are those kisses that Anakin peppers across his crown? Obi-Wan cannot tell.

"I won't let them take you away from me. I won't let them have you anymore. You're mine now, aren't you, Master? You belong to me. It's time they realized this.

"I love you."

* * *

The Chancellor has proved a true friend in the recent months. He has provided both the distilled venom that keeps Obi-Wan under and the place to abscond Anakin's unconscious Master. No one else knows where the missing General Kenobi is thanks to Palpatine's machinations, except Anakin and select few of Palpatine's closest guards—and here Obi-Wan is, secreted within the bowels of Coruscant. Safe. The overwhelming concentration of life here hides his Master more effectively than distance.

Anakin has killed Dooku. Anakin has killed Grievous in Obi-Wan's stead. Now all that remains are the Separatist Leaders, and Palpatine has said he has some information concerning their whereabouts. Soon everything will be perfect. Padme will no longer have that furtive, anxious air about her, will no longer look at him as if she doesn't know him; and Obi-Wan will be by his side for the rest of their lives. His partner. His companion. His.

But, until then, he must do this.

Anakin smiles down at the comatose man and plunges the syringe into the vulnerable crook of his Master's elbow. A rush of ecstasy fills him as the needle encounters the resiliency of Obi-Wan's flesh, overpowers it, and slides in deep. Slowly, carefully, he depresses the plunger and shoots the clear fluid into the throbbing vein. Empty, he withdraws it. Gleaming metal pulls out and resplendent color follows in its wake.

Penetration and blood.

Anakin shivers and sets the syringe aside. A hypospray would be more hygienic, but so impersonal. There is something about piercing Obi-Wan with this wicked implement that is far more intimate. He is allowed to be closer to his Master through the medium of metal than he has ever been in flesh.

Lifting the limp arm, noting the beginning signs of muscular atrophy, he bends his head and catches the sanguine jewel upon the tip of his tongue. The taste dissolves in his mouth: metallic salt. Is this the flavor of his Master's heart?

He caresses the wintry gold skin, eyes riveted to the relaxed countenance haloed by the spill of red-gold hair, and playfully tugs the downy hairs sprinkled across his Master's forearm. There is no reaction from the lax form carefully arranged upon the bed of sea green. When the war is over, those eyes will open again and regard Anakin with pride and love. Obi-Wan will understand, he thinks, tracing the purple-blue veins that traverse the distance between his Master's wrist and elbow. The pulse of blood beneath the skin soothes whatever lingering doubts still cling to his thoughts: Obi-Wan is safe. Still warm. Alive.

Tenderly he places his master's arm back upon the bed and brushes away a speck of stasis-gel on the webbing between thumb and forefinger that has escaped the warm bath Anakin treated Obi-Wan to upon Anakin's arrival. The medical droids may tend to Obi-Wan in Anakin's absence, but, when he returns to Coruscant, Obi-Wan is his to care for and protect. With a small smile of contentment Anakin leans in to brush his lips across Obi-Wan's tranquil brow. Soon everything will be the way it should be, he promises the silent man and slides his hand up his Master's bare thigh, his fingertips resting in the groove between thigh and groin.

"I'll be the strong one from now on. I can save everyone I care for—I will save them," he says softly, inhaling the spiced citrus of his Master's bath-damp hair. He knows he can; Palpatine has told him so.

Anakin will put an end to this war. He will show everyone how powerful he is, and the Jedi Council will have no choice but to recognize him as a Master. Soon he will have everything he wants: Padme and Obi-Wan will be his family; he will be the greatest Jedi ever just as Qui-Gon believed.

Yes, Anakin will have everything everyone has tried to deny him, have everything he deserves.

"Just a little longer, Master."

Everything will be _perfect_.

Soon.

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End 


End file.
